A Nine to Life Christmas Carol
by Apoc326
Summary: Soul finds himself experiencing the ultimate tale of learning the spirit of Christmas. But nothing is ever as easy as it should be, is it? Set in the Nine to Life continuity, my Christmas present to all of you!


**Disclaimer: I do not own Soul Eater, nor do I own any other works or properties mentioned in this story**

 **Editorial status: rough**

 **A/N: This is loosely set in my** _ **Your Guardian Soul**_ **/** _ **Nine to Life**_ **series, so all those pairings are in effect.**

* * *

 _ **A Nine to Life Christmas Carol**_

* * *

Soul stared around the room he found himself in, barely registering the familiar people in weird clothes. His half-lidded eyes were filled with contempt and resignation.

"'Hey Maka?'

'What is it, Soul?'

'Is this milk any good? It smells kinda funky.'

'No, it's still good, Soul. I'm sure it totally won't give you weird coked-out dreams that you can't make yourself wake up from.'

'Oh, well that's good then. Bottoms up!'"

Black Star looked up at Soul from his wooden desk with a concerned look on his face. "Did you say something, Mister Scrooge?"

"Nope. Nothing to worry about, Bob." Soul deadpanned. "Just keep at it and you can go home once you finish what you're working on. It's Christmas Eve. No one else is going to come in today and all of the other book keepers are leaving early one by one or have found excuses not to be here today."

"Truly sir?" Bob Star asked in shock and delight. "You truly mean that?" His tone suggested that this was an unprecedented event.

"Sure. Go spend the rest of the day with that family of yours."

"T-Thank you so much, Mister Scrooge!" Black Bob Star Cratchit nearly shouted. He returned himself to the ledger in front of him, calculating the amounts owed to Scrooge's lending company with renewed vigor.

Soul let his eyes unfocus as he tried sorting things out. _So I'm stuck in some whacky rendition of "A Christmas Carol" and Black Star is Bob Cratchit… Time to make some predictions: that should mean that Tsubaki plays Emily and they're gonna have a whole batch of kids, one of whom is crippled and sick._ That's _gonna be loads of not-fun. This begs the question of who the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future are… honestly, I bet it's gonna be Liz, Patty and Kid. So… does Maka show up as Jacob Marley or something? This makes no sense. But wouldn't Lord Death be a better Christmas Future? But then what would Kid-_

"-ister Scroog? Mister Scrooge?" Bob Star called.

"Hmpf? Oh, yes, what is it Bob?"

"I have finished going over the ledgers for the day…" Black Star seemed honestly agitated, like he might be on the receiving end of a cruel joke. The unasked question hanging in the air.

"Ah, very good, Bob. You may leave for the day."

"Thank you, once more, Mister Scrooge." The elation drained from Bob Star's face. "I'll… see you tomorrow, sir."

 _What's that, Dickens? I'd be creating plot holes by being generous_ before _all the life lessons and scare tactics? Well_ no shit _, I'm not a complete monster! So since I'm stuck in this dream, I'm gonna see how far off the rails I can take this._

"And Bob?" Soul called as Black Cratchit began to close the door.

"Yes sir?" Nervousness entered the man's voice.

"You may take tomorrow off, too. No other businesses are going to be open and all of my other employees have found reasons to not be here tomorrow as well."

"Oh, thank you so much sir!" Bob Star exclaimed.

"Think nothing of it." Soul grumbled. Being a decent human being shouldn't earn anyone such praise.

"Thank you so much, Mister Scrooge! And Merry Christmas!"

"Bah, humbug." Soul grunted to himself as the door closed behind the ecstatic man. He could almost swear he heard Bob Star shout 'yahoo' as he rushed off to his family through the snow-covered streets.

Soul glanced around the now empty room once more. "So… how do the scenes transition? Do I get to wander Victorian London looking for Scrooge's house or do I just jump from one scene to-"

 ** _WOOSH!_**

"-another?" Soul blinked his eyes and looked around the new, much darker surroundings. "Looks like I just teleport. Or Something. Well, that's fun."

As his eyes adjusted, Soul realized that he was sitting on a gigantic four poster bed in the middle of a bedroom right out of… well a movie set in Victorian England. A sedate fire was burning in a marble fireplace across from his bed, filling the room with warmth. The silken sheets and pajamas that were breathtakingly comfortable and warm. Apparently being rich back in the day was kind of awesome.

"So, I'm going to guess that this is when the fire is going to blow all, all spooky like-"

The window on the far side of the room suddenly blew open with a loud bang that rattled the panes of glass. A freezing blast of wind laced with snow and ice swept into the room and swirled around the fire, snuffing it out. Then, fast as it entered, the wind withdrew like a living thing and slammed the window closed behind it, the latch even falling down and locking.

"Well, like that. And now some ghostly moaning and creepy banging around."

All the clocks in the old home began to chime midnight in unison.

Soul raised an eyebrow in appreciation. "Ooh, nice curveball."

A long, expectant silence stretched out into minutes. The only sound reaching Soul's ears was the steady ticking of the grandfather clock near the cooling fireplace.

"So… spirit?" Soul called out. "Do you feel like showing yourself? Maybe move this plot along?"

The distant clink of chains sounded from outside the bedroom door and grew louder, along with the sound of footsteps.

"Wait, footsteps? Doesn't Jacob Marley float?" Soul asked aloud.

The door knob jiggled slightly and turned. Soul gulped slightly, unsure of what he was about to see. The door swung inward and Spirit Albarn shuffled into the room covered in many shackles and lengths of chain. He looked positively terrible, like someone have woken him up in the middle of the night. In his hand, he held a large sandwich what was large enough to try and fall apart when gripped with only one hand.

"Wait, Spirit? Is that you?"

"Hm?" The ghost of Scrooge's business partner grunted and looked at Soul. "Oh, hey Ebenezer." He went back to munching on the sandwich as he walked over to a massive, plush chair near the fireside and plopped down into it.

"Son of a bitch." Soul muttered in disbelief. "I get locked into a weird ass dream and I get my meister's dad as a half-assed Marley."

"Whash dat?" Spirit Marley asked around a mouthful of sandwich.

Soul groaned in frustration. "Seriously, man? You're supposed to be here, setting up me becoming a better human being and learning about Christmas and giving and charity and all that good stuff, and you're eating _real food_ from _my_ pantry, acting like I interrupted your beauty sleep and you _aren't even trying to float like a real ghost_!"

Spirit swallowed his mouthful of sandwich. "Oh, right, that thing I do." Without missing a beat, he shoved the whole sandwich into his stomach and floated up from the chair. The apparition took a moment to make a great showing of cracking stiff joints and loosening knotted muscles.

"I really hope this whole dream isn't like this."

"Oooooooooooo! Ooooooooohhhhhh!" Spirit began to make ghostly noises and shake the chains attached to him, "Ebenezer Scoooooooooge! I am the ghost of Jacob Marleeeeeey!"

"Yeah. We exchanged greetings."

"Toniiiiight you shall be visited by three ghooooooosts!"

"Oh no." Soul deadpanned. "Spirit, tell me why this is happening to me."

"Like you, I was a terrible man in life. And like you, I am bound by the weight of the chains I forged with my own wickedness in liiiiiiiiife!"

"Please, old friend, tell me what can I do?" Soul continued to speak in an utterly bored tone.

"Tonight, you will be visited by three ghoooooosts!"

"You already said that."

"Each will show you the way to redemption, but only you can walk the paaaaaath!"

"And then do I get to wake up?" Soul asked.

Jacob Albarn looked confused and momentarily dropped the ghost act. "But you're already awake. You can't have a conversation in your sleep."

"You have no idea how meta of a comment that is, dude." Soul replied.

The ghost cocked its head. "'Meta'? 'Dude'?" He asked.

"Forget it. So… what happens now?" Soul asked his ghostly visitor.

"Well, I think I just kinda fade away and leave you to go back to sleep."

Soul groaned and fell back into the bed. "So… is this whole thing just really loosely planned out or do the different characters not read the other parts of the story?"

"Honestly, I just got kicked out of bed in the middle of the night, got handed a message to pass along and now I'm here. I figure I might go to the hostess club I haunt. Hehe. Get it? 'Haunt'?"

"Riveting." Soul pulled a pillow over his face. "Totally never heard a ghost pun before."

"You're no fun." Spirit Marley whined. "I'll be on my way. Have fun with those spirit guides. Heh-"

"I got it! Thanks! Enjoy the titty bar!"

"Please. It's hardly such a sordid place. But there is this one witch named Blair with these huge-"

"Thank you! Good day, sir!" Soul pointed towards the door.

"Damn you are such a Grinch."

"OUT!" Soul bellowed and threw his pillow through the ghost.

Apparently the pillow was once blessed or enchanted because it caused the apparition of Spirit Albarn as Jacob Marley to vanish and leave the room empty once more. As if the fireplace were artificial, the fire sprang back to life and began to burn merrily. Then the sandwich splatted on the floor.

"I hate my life."

"Oh, by the way," Marley's voice came through the closed door. "Expect the first ghost when the clock chimes one!"

"Oh for fuck's sake-"

 ** _WOOSH!_**

"Ah, good, on to the Ghost of Christmas Past." Soul grumbled as he woke up from apparently being suddenly asleep.

He sat up in the insanely plush and comfortable bed and looked around the room. The fire had burned down to embers and the clock's hands just ticked to one in the morning.

The grandfather clock rang out once in the silent house.

"So… now what?" Soul asked after another long moment.

"You know, they say that patience is a virtue." A deep voice echoed from around the room. "I was a very patient man. I was always very patient. That's the kind of man I was." The figure of Sid, the Teacher of Christmas Past, slowly appeared between the foot of Soul's bed and the fireplace. Soul tried not to gawk at the image of his teacher in period clothing… Period clothing with the sleeves torn off at the shoulders for some reason.

Soul was torn between utter confusion and rolling his eyes. Hearing Sid's lectures was the perfect way to get him to roll his eyes on reflex, but the fact that Sid was his Ghost of Christmas Past… Well, in retrospect he should have seen it coming. A zombie obsessed with the time that he was alive was perfect for dragging him over past events.

"Well played, subconscious." Soul whispered.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past. I've come to show you the story of Christmases past and allow you to learn from them."

Soul nodded, swept the covers off to one side and got out of bed. "Just a moment, ghost. I'd like to put on something warm before we go trudging around in the snow.

"Ah, very well. I can respect being prepared. I always tried to be ready for anything when I was alive. That was the kind of man that I was." Sid nodded in approval.

The Death Scythe rolled his eyes to himself as he pulled on a thick, warm robe and slid his feet into some amazingly fuzzy slippers. He took a moment to savor the softness and warmth of the clothing. _Note to self, ask for more things like this. Little late to put on the Christmas list… but definitely next year._

"Now that you're ready, please follow me." Sid walked over towards the window and opened it wide. He waited for Soul to join him near the window before leaping out the window without another word.

"So… I just jump and then fly like Peter Pan?" Soul called after Sid.

"Just jump!" Sid called from out in the dark of the night.

"Welp, it's a dream." Soul shrugged and climbed up onto the window sill. "Silver lining, if I hit the ground, I'll wake up and get to skip the next two ghosts and the wrap-up." He leapt out into the chilly night air, only to hang a few feet below the window. "Well, this is… new."

"It takes some getting used to." Sid sympathized. "Now, off to pivotal moments of your life."

Soul groaned as he felt himself be drawn along with his guide. _Nothing like seeing the history of someone else. And getting taught a lesson I don't need._

The two sped off to the East, towards the distant sun beyond the horizon. As the miles swept below them and the wind tore at them, the dawn light grew until it filled Soul's vision.

When the blinding light finally dimmed enough to allow him to see things once again, Soul found himself standing in a small classroom. Wooden desks held together with cast iron stood in ranks with truly martial precision. The room was obviously old and while not necessarily clean, it was remarkably tidy. With a single glance it was plain to see that a true taskmaster presided over this domain.

"This should be familiar to you, Ebenezer." Sid observed.

"I've only ever seen it in every telling of the story." Soul grumped.

"What?" The spirit asked, nonplussed. "This is the classroom of your boyhood school."

"Oh, right. 'Oh, how nostalgic. I haven't seen this place in years.'"

Back on the script, Sid seemed less troubled instantly. "And what of that boy?" He gestured to a boy of no more than ten years sitting in the back of the room, pouring over books and parchment.

Soul's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull. Instead of seeing a young Ebenezer Scrooge, he saw a young Soul Evans sitting at the desk. His younger self's spikey white hair and crimson red eyes somehow seemed enormously out of place in such an old classroom and clothes. Seeing himself actually _studying_ like that in a classroom well after class had ended was pretty weird too.

Voices drifted in from the hallway.

"Look at Ebenezer, still in there studying."

"Isn't he going home for Christmas? The last carriages into town will leave in a few minutes."

"No, he _never_ does. He just sits there and studies late into the night."

"Seems that his family wishes to _enjoy_ their Christmas."

"What a miserable fool."

"Come on lads, let's not miss the carriage or we'll be stuck with that poor sod."

Cruel laughter that the other boys didn't even try to hide rang out as they walked away.

Soul gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. Dream or not, that shit was too cruel. The heartbreaking part of it was that young Scrooge couldn't have avoided hearing the unconcealed mockery and scorn, but he gave no outward sign that he had; he was _used_ to this kind of treatment.

Just like Soul had been in his own younger years.

"You seem upset." The Ghost of Christmas Past observed.

"I buried myself in schoolwork to avoid their torments and that only made them crueler." Soul mumbled, not talking to the ghost about the boy before them, but still staying on script all the same.

"Shall we move on?" The ghost said after a moment.

Soul swallowed, fighting down a tide of unpleasant emotions and memories. "Please."

Time sped forward in a blur, days and weeks passing in the blink of an eye. Suddenly they were in a different room altogether, surrounded by people dressed for a party.

"This is the office of your first employer." Ghost Sid helpfully told him.

Soul slowly spun around and took in his surroundings. He found himself in an obvious Christmas party, what with the green and red decorations, the decadent Christmas tree and the gigantic banner that read "Merry Christmas!" strung across one wall.

The loud, off key and drunkenly sung Christmas carols might have been another hint.

"So this is Mister Fezziwig's place?" Soul asked absently.

Sid hesitated. "O-of course it is. Is your memory getting bad in your old age?"

Soul glared at his guide. Even if Sid had sounded concerned, his question was still rather blunt.

"Even as a ghost, you don't have much tact, huh?"

"What do you mean? Even in life, I was very direct. That's the kind of man I was." Sid answered proudly.

"Does that have anything to do with the gaping hole in your forehead?"

"Uh… Well, in a manner of speaking…" The spirit was growing confused as Soul went off script again.

"Huh. I wonder if the two are linked."

The Ghost of Christmas Past tilted his head to one side in confusion. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Soul answered quickly. "Oh look, it's past me. Let's get this next painful memory over with and continue this conversation never."

"Ah, Ebenezer! So good of you to join us for the Christmas party!" A warm, older, fatherly-looking version of Death the Kid boomed as he walked over to the older-looking version of Soul Scrooge. Frighteningly enough, the version of himself that Soul saw looked to be very near his current age. The stern expression on his face made him look ten years older.

"Wait, _Death the Kid_ is Fezziwig? And he's… unconditionally happy…" the Death Scythe was quite nearly floored. Seeing older versions of Liz and Patty dressed in period clothing flanking him and acting as hostesses finished the job.

The Sid of Christmas Past looked at Soul strangely again. "Who?"

"Never mind."

"Mister Fezziwig, I was just going over the last of my assigned work for the year. While doing so, I noticed some discrepancies with one of the accounts. I was hoping that you could look over these-"

Kid Fezziwig laughed raucously. "Come now, Ebenezer! Tonight is Christmas Eve! Leave work for later and enjoy yourself!"

Ebenezer Evans looked confused. "But sir, this is valuable time for working."

The joviality drained slightly from the older man's face. "Please, Ebenezer, you have your whole life to work ahead of you. Now please, there is an old friend of the family that I want to introduce you to." Fezziwig took his employee by the arm and waved to someone across the party who began to make their way towards the two.

As the person approached, Soul caught a glimpse of them and his breath hitched in his throat. She had long, platinum blonde hair tied into a bun and stunning eyes that looked like flakes of jade. She wore an intricate dress of green and white that matched her eyes perfectly. But the smile on her face was what truly made his heart appear to stop.

"Maka?" Soul asked, dumbfounded as she reached Mister Fezziwig and Soul Scrooge. Introductions were made and Maka curtsied after the young man took her hand.

"No, that is the woman who would become your fiancé, Belle." Sid corrected. "This was the first time you met each other."

 _Only fiancé? What happen- Oh shit._ "Uh… spirit, can we just skip the next memory that you're going to show me?" Soul asked with more than a little fear in his voice.

"I am sorry, but what comes next must be seen."

"I was afraid of that." Soul's shoulder slumped.

Time once again began to speed by in a frenzy. Days passed in seconds and the scene around them blurred. When time returned to its normal flow, Soul and his guide found themselves standing in the middle of a snowy park.

A short way off, a couple sat on a bench overlooking the river. Given that there were only four people present, it was obvious that the other two were Belle Albarn and Ebenezer Evans.

It was early evening, and the park was eerily quiet; the crisp air and proximity to dinner time kept everyone indoors. When Belle spoke, her voice carried and reached the ears of the spectators with ease.

"Ebenezer, do you love me?" Belle's voice was calm and even, indicating nothing. Soul, familiar with Maka's tones of voices, felt himself go on edge.

 _This is not going to go well…_ Soul thought to himself.

Ebenezer was clearly caught off guard by the question. "What? O-of course I do!" He stood then knelt in front of Belle. "I wouldn't have asked for your hand if I didn't."

"Then why do you delay our wedding another year?" Belle's voice began to waver.

Soul felt his heart clench at the sound of her voice. Even though that apparition before him had the appearance of Maka and her voice, she was _not_ his own fiancé or lover. This was just a really frustratingly, terrifyingly involved dream. That was all. Really.

"I… I am ashamed to admit that some of my investments didn't return as promised. And there have been setbacks…" Ebenezer tried to explain.

"But you have been made a full partner in your work! You make enough money for anyone to have a warm home with food on the table!" Pain began ripping into Belle's voice.

"I don't have enough!" Scrooge shouted, less at Belle and more at the world. "It's not enough to support you!"

"And there never will be enough for you, will there?" Belle asked as her voice cracked. "You love your money so much that I cannot compete with it. There will never be enough space in your heart for me."

Her question pierced his heart. "Belle…"

Soul, standing next to the Ghost of Christmas Sid, gasped and brought his hand to his chest, feeling as though an icicle had been driven through it.

"That is it, isn't it? That is why you never let me into your heart, why you always work late into the night and why I must drag you away from that wretched place. Because your love of money leaves no love for me."

Belle placed her hand on Ebenezer's cheek and looked into his eyes. "Ebenezer Scrooge, I love you with all the heart that God gave me, but I cannot share your love with money. I cannot live like this any longer." She stood, tears still in her eyes. "Goodbye, my love." She walked quickly away. And out of Ebenezer's life.

"Spirit," Soul placed a hand on the Ghost of Christmas Past's arm. "Please take me away from this pain. I can't bear this any longer."

"This is for your own welfare." Sid said, almost sounding apologetic.

"No! It's not! This is not my life, that is not my love yet she looks and sounds like mine! I feel like half of my soul has been ripped out and shredded and trampled into the dirt! I can't bear the heartache of a life that isn't my own!" Soul tried to ignore the hot tears now rolling down his face.

"As I said, this is for your own salvation. You cannot be saved without-"

"Leave me! Take me back and don't trouble me with your 'salvation' any more!" Soul screamed at the ghost.

The Ghost of Christmas Past stared at him for a long moment. "As you wish."

Immediately the light began to fade like stage lights coming down.

 ** _WOOSH_!**

Soul opened his eyes and sat bolt upright in bed. Glancing around, he found himself back in Scrooge's bedroom.

"Ah fuck." He groaned. "Two more goddamned ghosts to deal with… What the-?" He reached up to his eyes and felt moisture. _Crying in a dream within a dream? Really? Someone needs to call Leonardo DiCaprio because this shit is getting ridiculous._

Ebenezer Evans flopped back onto the pillow with a groan. _But hey, no more terrible pain being driven into my soul. Wait… am I actually buying into this dream?_

The once warm fire had burned itself down and nothing but ash remained. Just as Soul glanced at the clock, its hands ticked over to two in the morning.

The grandfather clock rang out twice in the silent house.

"Come on. Let's get this shitshow rolling." Soul called out.

Suddenly the fire roared back into life, even with only burnt logs in the fireplace.

A busty woman adorned in rich red robes and a Santa-like hat appeared in a seat next to the fire. Her hair was long and purple. She held a wine bottle in one hand and a glass in another.

"Meow…" She greeted him. "Come, drink and know me better, man!" She called out to him.

"What? Blair?" Soul asked. "The hell?"

"Come, drink and know me better, man!" She called out to him again. "Uh… did I just say that?"

Soul grimaced. _Yeah, that's Blair._ "Yeah." He replied as he climbed out of bed and sat down across from her near the fire.

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present. I live in the now, so my memory is not what it could be." She giggled and _donk'd_ herself on the head with the wine bottle.

"Ya don't say." Soul deadpanned.

"And I've come to show you what the spirit of Christmas looks like, since you sorely lack it."

"Oh joy."

"Come on, let's go!" Blair giggled and took his hand.

A sudden flash of light overtook them and they were in a crowded market square. People were busily going to and fro, buying food for their Christmas feast. Others carried gifts purchased at the last minute for their loved ones. Off to one side, a group of carolers sang Christmas songs, bringing smiles to the faces of all who heard them.

"Wow, so things were never really all that different at Christmas time, huh? Guess parking might be harder now, but still." Soul said as he took in the scene, unable to keep himself from smiling at the infectious cheer.

"Wait, aren't you supposed to grumble about the waste of money and energy on a useless holiday?" The spirit asked in confusion. "And what's 'parking'?"

"Uh… I can grumble if you want? I'm not going to lie unless you want me to."

"No, it's just that I can't really do my thing if you're already in a good mood about this." The Ghost of Christmas Present smiled awkwardly.

"Well…" Soul began, not quite sure what to say.

"Ah, screw it. Off to your nephew's place."

"Wha-"

A bright flash overwhelmed them once more. As it dimmed, Soul found himself in a small but cozy home. Wes sat in the living room with a large group of happy people whose faces Soul couldn't quite make out.

"Here we are!" The Ghost of Christmas Present announced. "This is the home of your nephew."

Soul tried not to laugh at the notion of Wes being his nephew, but he wasn't going to intentionally make Blair's job any harder than he already had.

"I would like to propose a toast!" Wes declared to the room as a round of laughter settled down. "First, to all who are here with us on this wonderful day."

"Hear, hear!" One of the faceless men exclaimed.

"Second, to those who are less fortunate than we. May the Lord bless them and give them comfort and joy on the day of the birth of his son."

A more subdued round of approval rose amongst the attendees as they took a moment to assess what they had and how fortunate they were to have the Lord smile upon them.

"And lastly," Wes continued. "To those who cannot join us today. May the Lord watch over them and comfort them. People like my Uncle Ebenezer."

"Bah, that cantankerous old man?" One guest asked in dismissal.

"The man has no heart and preys upon the weak and less fortunate."

Wes visibly composed himself. "It is true that my Uncle in an unsavory man, but he is also family and a human being worthy of happiness."

"I know you feel a duty to the man, but you must admit he is a truly mean person." One woman said.

After a long moment, Wes weakly conceded the point. "That… that he is."

"Alrighty, I think we're done here." Soul said to his guide. "I've heard enough."

"Not yet. We have another place to see."

Soul sighed. "Of _course_ there is."

Another blinding flash rose and fell. This time, they were in the middle of a much smaller home, closer to a shack than a house. Nonetheless, it gave off the air of a warm and loving place to live.

In the kitchen a tall woman with flowing black hair stood at the fireplace, tending to a turkey roasting over the fire.

 _Tsubaki? Oh right, Cratchit family… So where are the kids? I could use a laugh seeing how crazy and unruly their kids are._

Right on cue, the front door exploded inward and Black Cratchit waded through a tide of children surging past him, carrying one of the smaller ones in his arms and one clinging around his neck.

"Mommy!" Many of them cried out in unison.

The woman spun around with a bright smile on her face. "Welcome home, little ones!" She knelt and let the tidal wave of her young break against her in a mass of loving hugs.

As the floodwaters subsided, Bob Star set down the young son that he was carrying. "Go and play with your siblings, Tim." He patted the boy on the head and handed him the small crutches that he had been holding.

"Thank you, Father." The boy said happily before hobbling off.

"How was church?" Mrs. Cratchit asked her husband with a warm smile.

Black Cratchit returned the smile. "It was lovely. Tim said that he hoped that those who saw him would remember who it was who made the blind see and the crippled walk."

Tsubaki's smile grew slightly sad at hearing her son's wish. "I hope so, as well." She replied.

The sound of deep, hoarse coughing from one side of the small home drew Bob Star towards it with a worried glance at his wife.

Soul and the Spirit of Drunken Present, perpetually half-full bottle of wine in hand, followed the concerned father towards the sound of coughing.

On the floor, surrounded by scared and concerned siblings, lay the small boy that Mr. Cratchit had called Tim. Without missing a step, the boy's father scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to the kitchen.

"You're alright, son. Just got a bit too excited. Just have a seat and try to relax." Bob Star assured his sick son.

Soul stared at the young boy as he labored to catch his breath. His face resembled that of his father, but he had black hair long enough to cover his ears. What struck Soul most was that Tim managed to wear the same calm and happy expression Tsubaki seemed to wear naturally.

Something about seeing such a cute kid suffering from some illness he could only guess at, wrenched at Soul's heart. The fact that the child managed to remain positive and hopeful about his condition only made it harder to endure.

"Spirit, can you tell me about that boy? Tim?" Soul asked the Witch of Christmas Present as the rest of the Cratchit family bustled about setting the table and carrying the various dishes of their feast to the table.

The ghost focused for a moment. "Mmmmnyaa… I can't say."

Soul gave her a look. "Can't or won't say?"

The tipsy ghost laughed. "I can't say because I'm the Ghost of Christmas Present. Both the past and the future aren't my specialty. What I _can_ tell you is that, if nothing is done to change things, I see that the boy will get sicker and die."

Soul clenched his eyes closed. "I was afraid you'd say that."

The family finally sat themselves down at their dinner table and said a quick prayer expressing their thankfulness for the feast before them and their family.

The prayer concluded with Tim saying "God bless us, everyone."

"And I think that you've set the stage nicely for the next ghost." Soul said.

"Thank you!" The ghost gushed. "And just in time too, I'm out of wine." She pouted as she looked up the neck of the upended wine bottle like some last drop of the drink was just hiding.

"So…" Soul began after a few minutes of silence.

"Hm?" The Ghost of Christmas Drunk asked, her mouth wrapped around the opening of the bottle like it was a baby's bottle.

"How does this work? Does the next dude just show up or do I wind up back in bed or-"

"Awh, wight! Duwh!" The ghost thumped her own head and snapped her fingers.

 ** _WOOSH!_**

"Nyah!" Soul sat bolt upright in Scrooge's bed once more.

"Did you have a weird dream again?" A voice asked from the darkness.

" _Yes!_ " Soul answered angrily. "Wait. Who's there?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. One sec." The voice responded.

The sound of hands being clapped together rang out twice in quick succession and the fireplace leapt back into life and filled the bedroom with light.

Soul slumped forwards when he recognized the form sitting in one of the plush chairs in front of the fireplace. "How's it going, Lord Death?"

"Oh ho ho ho, no need to be so formal. Tonight, you can call me The Ghost of Christmas Future. This is kinda my side gig when I'm not off guiding the dead to the afterlife. So, how's it goin'? What's shakin'?"

"Isn't the Ghost of Christmas Future supposed to be mute and creepy and ominous?" Soul asked in exasperation.

"Oh but that'd be no fun. I'm supposed to show you the path to leading a better life and not suffering the same fate as Jacob Marley."

"Y'see, the thing about all this is that it's a dream. I drank some iffy milk before I went to bed and now I'm having a nightmare. You're literally the product of bad milk."

"What?" Lord Death asked.

"Let me spoil the rest of this nightmare: I die and people are happy that I died and Tiny Tim Cratchit dies because his illness couldn't be treated. Then you show me my grave, confirming what I already suspected and then I beg you to help me and wake up on Christmas morning. I learned my lesson, give a giant turkey to the Cratchits, help take care of Tiny Tim, become an icon of good cheer and my heart grew three sizes that day."

"Now wait a second there… Did you get a copy of the script or something?"

"No, I've just seen this story told about seventy times."

"How?"

"Because this is a dream."

"Huh."

"I know, right?"

"And you can't wake up?"

"Nope."

"Tried falling out of bed? Jumping out the window?"

"Well, Sid took me out the window and I flew, so not much luck."

"What about this?" Lord Death produced a large, genuinely medieval looking scythe from out of his robes.

"Why am I suddenly not so sure this is a dream?" Soul asked nervously. "And isn't this like suicide for you if it is a dream?"

The reaper stopped winding up to take a swing at Soul. "Nah, I'm probably part of your subconscious already or I'm about to take another soul to the afterlife. No matter how much ya _slice_ it, I come out ahead."

Soul groaned at the pun. "Just… please do this before you make any more puns… please?"

"Oh, alright. Here we go-"

A blinding pain bloomed in Soul's stomach before Lord Death had even begun to swing his scythe. The pain made his mind go white for a moment and brought a loud ringing to his ears.

"Soul? Are you ok?" Maka's voice echoed through his mind.

"Maka? That you?" He groaned, his hands finding the source of the pain in his stomach.

"Soul?" Her voice sounded slightly less concerned now that he was responding.

"Mmyeah?" He managed to choke out. "Why is your elbow in my gut?"

"Oh, sorry!" She quickly stopped leaning on her elbow that was planted firmly on Soul's abdomen.

Slowly, the Death Scythe's eyes began to focus and he saw the dark but familiar ceiling of Maka;s bedroom in their apartment in Death City.

"You were talking in your sleep and crying and making faces and thrashing around and you wouldn't wake up." Maka explained in a rush.

"So you did an elbow drop on my gut to wake me up?" Soul rhasped, pain still gripping his body.

His meister blushed. "I was kind of panicking. I mean, I don't know what happened, but I was getting a lot of really weird stuff from you then you fell out of soul resonance and I lost it."

Soul groaned and shifted around the bed, trying to find a more comfortable position. "Remember that milk that you said was totally safe?"

Maka stopped freaking out. "Huh? I mean, yeah?"

"It's going down the drain. Once I can move again."

"Why?" She asked, slightly confused.

"I got stuck in my own nightmare production of 'A Christmas Carol'. Black Star was Bob Cratchit. Your dad was Marley, Sid was the Ghost of Christmas Past, Kid was Fezziwig, you were Belle, Blair was The Ghost of Christmas Present, Tsubaki was Emily Cratchit and Lord Death was the Ghost of Christmas Future."

Maka stared at him for a long moment. "What the hell?"

"I _know_ , right?"

"So the crying…?"

"Belle leaving Scrooge because he loved money too much." Soul answered.

Maka gently embraced her weapon. "I'm sorry."

"And I couldn't wake up. Lord Death was about to take a swing at me with a scythe to wake me up when you decided to audition for professional wrestling."

"Oops." Maka blushed again.

Soul tried to focus his eyes on the clock that sat atop the dresser next to Maka's bed. "What day is it?"

"Christmas Day, silly. 3:05 in the morning, but still Christmas."

The weapon slumped back onto the bed. "Damn, I didn't miss it."

"Wait, what?"

"Scrooge had these awesome slippers and this robe that I want so bad now."

"I think you took the wrong message from your dream, Soul." Maka grinned lopsidedly.

"Bah, humbug." Soul mumbled.

"Think you can go back to sleep?" She asked.

"Well, no thanks to you smashing me in the gut, I think I should be able to fall asleep soon enough. Just… don't try that 'curl up and sleep on Soul's torso' tonight and I'll be fine."

Maka feigned a pout. "Aww, you're no fun."

Soul flashed her his trademark grin in the dark. "None at all." He used an elbow to prop himself up and gave his mesiter a quick peck on the lips.

In a few minutes, Maka was snuggled up against him and the adrenaline began to drain out of Soul's system, leaving nothing but some dull pain in his abdomen. He nuzzled his lover.

"Merry Christmas, Soul." She mumbled.

"Merry Christmas." Soul replied before adding "Humbug."

* * *

 **A/N: So, I actually started this one last Christmas. However, I was sick and had to wake up early and drive an hour and a half to my grandfather's place to bring him to my parent's place and then drop him off in the evening. So, with precious cargo on half of my six hours I spent driving, I chose sleep over finishing this. Given that drive was the last time that I saw the man alive, I'm not sorry at all.**

 **The sharp reader will notice that I was a total bastard and went with the Muppet version of the story over the more classical tellings. It's my personal favorite, and was a** _ **great**_ **reason to watch the movie six or seven times.**

 **So, I did learn something amazing tonight/this morning: drinking whiskey heavily while trying to write. I'm sober now, but it makes focusing on the writing kinda hard and the Mythbusters marathon and Facebook posts are terribly distracting.**

 **Those of you who are big fans of Team Four Star are going to notice that I may have been leaving little nuggets lying around for you.**


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